by Rae Hilhorst

The Wedding Photographer and How I Got Jibbed

So to the wedding photos, who knows how I chose the photographer and then I got jibbed. You didn’t have the choice then, that you do now, basically they were all the same, who to trust, who was going to do the right thing, who and where to go. Local, of course, oh dear, upon reflection not that I would have had a choice but!

I can’t remember the name of the business and have trawled through Google but alas no luck, considering businesses usually have a life span of 10 years they may no longer exist. But I do remember them as a reputable photographic studio, they had been around for a long time.

I remember where they used to be, in Auckland, in the suburb of Avondale, along a very busy strip, always loads of traffic, narrow roads, cars parked wherever they could, I’m remembering lots of noise, laughter, chatter, horns honking, trucks, buses, exhaust fumes. (Brittany and I call it Wind Dirt). I trawled this strip many times on my way home from school, dragging my school bag behind me, passing then backing myself into the local chippy. (That’s another story, they had the best potato fritters). I needed sustenance for the walk home, as I was usually wagging school, so wouldn’t be on the school bus that bought me a lot closer to home. It must have been a 4km walk home. After all I needed something to sustain me for the long walk home in time to watch Days of Our lives with mother. Sometimes I bought friends with me, getting someone to wag school with you is wrong isn’t it?

A consultation was had at the photographers with the head honcho, words exchanged, promises made, they of course had issues with the black dress; oh please I can’t have been the only one. They asked that I visit with said dress so a lighting check could be conducted. Background to be chosen. I didn’t cotton on at the time to the word background, wonder what they meant.

I collected mother on a sunny warm Saturday morning in October, for a trip to the studio, Michael I remember was at a car yard the same time we were at the studio signing papers for a car exchange as we had a large falcon and had negotiated a swap for a newer smaller car, in readiness for our honeymoon to the sunny Bay of Islands which is the far north of the north island of New Zealand.

It resembled this one the one we were getting rid, big and sturdy which I think saved us

For one that looked like this

So mother belted up in the passenger seat, me driving carefully in this busy traffic, after all the car was shortly not to be mine any more, we rolled gently down the street, indicating right, waiting, waiting, waiting, for a break in the traffic.

I looked right at a construction site beside me, I looked ahead at oncoming traffic and then I looked in the rear view vision mirror to see a car BARRELINGdown upon us. It was clear he wasn’t going to stop. So I floored it, which I think helped lesson the impact. BANG, we were rear-ended, a scream escaped our throats, and we were thrown forward, thankfully only a bit of bruising, a bit of whiplash, just what you want before a wedding.

The idiot that hit us was DRUNK, at 10am in the morning. I was furious and gave him more than a serve; the workmen from the site were a bit concerned I think they thought I might deck him. I wouldn’t let him move from the pavement where the workmen had put him, he was staggering and had a dazed look on his face, I was not the slightest bit concerned, probably should have been, but it was clear he was drunk. Any way he wasn’t going anywhere till the police arrived, and to top it of the workmen wanted me to move my car, which I refused to do. So bugger the traffic they could go around me. The construction bods got together had a chat, probably about what they were going to do with this hysterical woman, they then chalked an outline around the car and asked If they could move it, I said that would be a NO,not till the police arrived.

Of course one of the first things the police did was, after talking to me and the idiot sitting on the curb was re chalk mark the cars and had them towed away.

Well after all the kerfuffle, conversations with the car yard, bless them they still took the car and had it repaired and we got the newbie to go away in for our honeymoon. I remember it was red, pretty sure it was a Datsun, I know you are thinking why would you, but we were young. I heard the Datsun discussed on the radio the other day, they were talking about the cars that were labelled the greatest lemons. Of course the Datsun made that list not that we had any trouble with it.

So eventually we made it to the photographer and here is where I now understand what they were talking about when he said backdrop. They wanted to use a fake garden backdrop, no way said I, we settled on the tacky brown backdrop instead, wise choice don’t you think, NOT.

Then guess what, they did, I don’t know if it was common practice, but we had photos taken before the ceremony, at the home. No, surprise, that vision of me walking down a red velvet aisle, Michael beaming upon seeing me for the first time in my stunning gown, yep wasn’t going to happen, as we had our photos before.

Then to make matters worse, the owner and head photographer sent his daughter to take the photos and not him. Humph!!!! Jibbed!!!!

A big thanks to Luke Michael’s brother as he had if memory serves me right a bit of a sports car and turned it into a wedding car for the day.